Requiem by the Lake
by candycanepower
Summary: Who could hope, have fun, believe in magic, and have faith in justice in Puritan New England? Girls certainly couldn't unless they wanted to be shammed or even worse, prosecuted as witches. Those were days of darkness, discrimination, and cruelty. Knowing that, Jack shouldn't have fallen in love with his first believer. The hardest part was watching her go. JackOC
1. Chapter 1

This takes place around 314 years before the movie's time period! This story will be slightly historical to adjust to the pre-Revolutionary era, and that does include traditions, customs, and religious values. I hope no one will be offended. After I watched the movie, I just wondered if he had ever gotten attached to anybody during that long stretch of time. Here's the story, hope you'll like it!

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**Sophia**

1698, Virginia.

It had been only four years since he woke up in a daze under the moonlight, floating over a sheet of ice. The man on the moon, Tsar Lunar, had only told him one thing: Jack Frost, his name. Other than that, he hadn't known a thing other than the fact that he could freeze things up, fly around, crash into trees, and not be able to interact with _anyone._

Because of that, he could never be able to count the amount of times he had been jealous of the village children. Jack had always watched, muttering to himself at times, whenever kids played out in the snow with reddened cheeks and noses. They laughed, sang songs, pushed each other around, and stole each other's food. Whatever antics and ruses that the children had done, Jack had never been a part of it. Sometimes he did alter nature slightly for their entertainment, but it just didn't feel right. He had only wanted to be able to laugh _with _them, for once.

Why, they couldn't see him, so it was logical of course! None of them had believed in him, for who had ever heard of Jack Frost anyway? Maybe the Norwegians did but Jack was late by a couple hundred of years. Besides, it was not like he could travel to Denmark-Norway or anywhere nearly that far—he could only oblige to whatever direction the wind blows.

So, the boy only had two companions, his staff and the wind, but neither spoke a single word to him. Sometimes he found himself talking to random inanimate objects just to feel like he was being listened to.

Other times he moped and sulked, kicking rocks around and just doing _nothing_. To forget the state of his solitude, he was often out causing mischief. And he had caused _a lot_ of trouble over the years. Most of the time, he didn't regret what he did. But the ones he did regret, he knew he was going to regret it for all of eternity.

Jack just so happened to be at a certain village that was nestled between a lake and a dense forest. He didn't know what it was called and didn't even bother to check-he usually wouldn't stay too long anyway so it didn't matter. Within the first few hours, the lake was as good as frozen and the pine trees were peppered with snow thanks to Jack's charm.

"Selling apples huh?" Jack commented as he watched a street vendor converse with a potential buyer. "Oops—how about some frozen apples?"

One touch and the frost crept all over the crimson apples like a second layer of skin. He snickered as he walked away, listening to the complaints from the unhappy would've-been customer.

_'Never gets old'_ he thought with a content grin as he rested his wooden staff on his shoulder. Suddenly, he perked up to a sweet aroma. Jack turned his head to see fresh bread that was rested on a wooden stand in front of a bakery. He squinted at it as he approached it, "Gosh I hate warm things."

Before he knew it, several people ran past him—or through him, rather. He rolled his eyes when the people crowded the front of the stand, all of which whom seemed interested in eating something warm. "How rude," Jack huffed sarcastically as he watched the adults that were crowding the stand. "What are lines made for anyway?"

A sideways glance and he noticed a boy. This little boy was ragged, small-framed, and had these very desperate brown eyes. Jack gulped with guilt and just looking at this lad made him feel sorry for him. Not really knowing why, Jack always had a soft spot for kids. He sighed; alas, he couldn't do a thing even if he wanted to. "Unless…" He muttered as the silver haired boy tapped the bottom of his staff on the snowy ground. Maybe he could help... indirectly.

"Wind? Can you give me a hand here?"

On cue, a gust of wind coursed through the vicinity. Because Jack was unable to fully control it, it was only strong enough to startle the small crowd into a bustling mini-chaos. Just as Jack thought, the boy sprung into action, maneuvering his little figure through the appalled crowd before escaping with a loaf of bread. Of course, the catastrophy of picking up hats and pulling other people up was big enough for the boy to go almost completely unnoticed—almost.

"Hey! Hey, thief!" cried a tense voice.

Jack sucked in a breath and stared as the scene before him ruefully. "Oh boy… Oh no, oh no…" The silver haired boy widened his eyes as a tall, shadowy figure seized the boy.

It was a man, all dressed in black, who looked like a reverend or a holy figure of some sort. Although there was a rosary around his neck, he didn't look forgiving and benelovent with God's warmth, not even the slightest. With grim hawk eyes, tight lips, and a bony grip tightly around the boy's wrist, he lifted him up by an inch above the ground, "Here's your thief, baker. I suggest your customers to form a line to avoid this problem in the future.""

"Father Gordon!" Red-faced, the baker glared at the child, who looked utterly frightened. "How about we take off this rat's hands so that we never have this problem in the future?"

"Stop it!" Jack snarled, feeling the rage, guilt, and sense of righteousness bundling up in his chest. "Stop, please no it was my fault!"

Breathing heavily, he looked around to see absolutely no responses, no heedings, not even a glance. They didn't hear him—they couldn't hear him. And now they were going to punish this boy when it was Jack that provoked the temptation. In loud frustration, he threw his staff down as he continued to yell and cry out things, just anything at this point, to get their attention. Each moment he spoke, his voice faltered, becoming more and more desperate each time.

They couldn't hear.

It was just his breaking point. Just his breaking point. It had been four long years and Hhe couldn't bear it anymore. Whatever fate the moon had given him, this was the worst. This was the worst form of punishment—a punishment for just existing without knowing. _Why?_

Jack had no idea why he could freeze things, control the weather, and ruin things—heck he didn't even know if he could do more or not. All he knew was that he was completely and utterly alone with no one to hear him, see him, feel him, or love him. It didn't help that Jack couldn't even love himself. In fact, he hated himself with every waking day.

He was on his knees now, right in front of the staff that had started everything. He clenched his hair as he reeled over from the conflicting emotions from within. When he opened his eyes, Jack stared at the wood staff, the blue veins that snaked around the handle, with his frozen blue eyes.

No, he couldn't bear seeing the boy be dragged off to whatever fate that had unjustly been given to him. "I'm sorry… so sorry. I-I... didn't mean to," he whispered under his breath as he gently picked up his staff. "Just tried to... help."

"Please, please stop!"

It was a girl's voice. Jack looked up to see a girl in a bonnet with deep brown hair that curled into waves at the tips of her long locks. Studying her face closer from the distance, she had the same expression of desperation as he. There was something in those green eyes with the sheen and sparkle of something more brilliant than ice. No, not ice, not nearly as cold.

She stood out—her entire appearance struck him as just 'different' compared to the other girls in the village. This girl looked… tidy, clean, and strangely pretty. Not beautiful or ethereal, he would admit, but nice enough to stare at for a period of time. It was that teenaged-boy in him that perked up to her presence.

"Please sirs, please reverend, let him go. He meant no harm." She pleaded.

"Ah," the reverend turned his head to the girl. "Sophia, the Robert Miller's daughter. How is the plantation doing, my dear?"

"It's doing fine," she replied hastily, looking rather bothered at his attempt to off-track the situation, "Please just—just let him go."

"Why's that?" cried the baker in his hoarse voice. "He's a thief! He's going to do it again like how all of the damn rift-rafts do!"

The adults that had crowded around the stand nodded and muttered amongst themselves, their eyes full of reprimand and scrutiny.

"I'll pay," Sophia replied with a small, earnest smile. She nodded stiffly to reassure the people around her. "Yes, yes I'll pay."

Quickly, her dainty fingers went through a little intricately designed pouch and pulled out a few coins. "Here you are—five shillings is it? H-Here have ten." The girl fumbled as she clumsily handed the coins onto the baker's large and plump hand. The baker, with his heavy mustache and squinty eyes, gave a look at the reverend and then huffed.

The tall lanky figure that was the reverend staidly dropped the boy, who landed on his bum. At a loss of what to say, the child gave Sophia a look of brief gratitude before running off. Positively surprised, Jack couldn't believe that the tragedy was rewritten. "Sophia…" He murmured as he approached closer to the girl that completely disregarded his existence. Though she didn't know that he existed, somehow, he felt as if she had heard him.

"You are much too kind, Sophia. Those kind of people are vermin. Thieves and sinners only have a quarter in Hell."

"He was hungry," She replied softly as she put her pouch away. Quickly, she added, "...Sir."

Although Sophia looked reluctant at first, she resumed, "I am sorry but God said to feed the hungry too, reverend." Then the girl looked up expectantly at the man-almost defiantly-and looked straight into his sullen gray eyes. The middle aged reverend looked as gaunt and sickly to be a healthy and walking undead, and those features alone made fear visible in the girl's stature.

The man smiled toothily in response, his eyes twinkling with the deepest disdain and bitterness. "Child," he seethed under a low breath. "Know your place. That mouth of yours can get you in more trouble than you know."

The smile quickly faded into a sunken frown before he walked away, the blacks of his cloak flowing after him with every stride like fleeting shadows Everything resumed, back to normal, as if nothing had happened. The town went back to its own business.

Jack furrowed his brows at Sophia, who stared blankly into the distance as she let out an unsteady and unsettling sigh. She was brave—gutsy, a hussy even to be speaking like that to an older man and that spelled trouble. But he definitely did not judge her. Rather, he was more grateful than anything else. But then he noticed something else.

Her eyes—wow her eyes were so green. The color reminded him of the shade of green that would sprout during the Spring. Jack found himself so intrigued and curious about her and wondered if-and only if, she might be able to really hear him. As if she read his mind, she shook her head after muttering something inaudible. Apparently, she was scolding herself or something, which struck him as something odd . When she began to walk away, he followed her.

There was no real logic behind what he was doing. Whether it was just because of fascination or something else entirely, Jack just didn't care. Wherever she was going, he walked beside her as if they were companions or friends of some sort. There was this faint connection he was feeling with her, like the feeble but cohesive strings of gossamer spider webs. Their fates just seemed connected, he could feel it. Jack would be damned if he could explain his feelings. In short her presence just felt so... welcoming. For the first time, he felt wanted in those eyes that saw him as nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for all of the reviews! I really do appreciate the reviews. On the side note, although there are historical references, I only loosely integrated it to fit the story. This was a quick update because I already had this saved on my wordpad. I would be really happy if I can receive more feedback, thanks!

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Since that confrontation, Sophia felt jittery, still shaking to the very bones that supported her every stride. All she could wonder was how she managed to muster the strength to speak like that to Father Gordon, an authoritative male figure. The girl could only imagine what the others were saying about her—sooner or later, her father was going to hear about it.

In the past, she had made so many mistakes and slips of the tongue due to her weathered temper. Worse of all, whilst asking for forgiveness, she would have to pretend to act _extremely _sorry or act _extremely_ stupid to be dismissed. Perhaps that was one of the only perks for being a young woman—men were suckers for weakness.

And she _loathed_ it. The disgruntled expression lingered over her demeanor as she walked home. With every exhale, the white ghost of her breath drifted away, trailing behind her until it dissipated.

Jack was walking next to her, swinging the cane rather recklessly. Following people around was a normal past time for him; however it was usually an incredibly dull and pointless thing to do.

When the cane went right through her, he immediately blurted by reflex, "Whoops—I didn't mean that."

_Silence._

"Of course…" He grinned wryly, continuing to stalk behind her as they entered a forest trail. He was quite glad that turned out well.

After a few minutes of muted walking, Jack took note of the way she dressed.

Puritan dresses were so funny-looking. Without a doubt, that dress didn't fit her—it made her look very, 'wide', as he would call it.

And honestly, there were meaner descriptions he could've used. Her awkward walking became much more apparent and enjoyable to watch once he realized it. Gracefully maneuvering in a Puritan gown was not a common skill, as far as he could tell.

All of the sudden, she began to hum a tune that he didn't recognize. Whatever melody it was, the aura all around her eased up, alleviated whatever trouble that was cast upon her. That moment was short-lived, unfortunately. It ceased after a solemn sigh.

"I wonder what I should tell father…"

Jack gave her an inquisitive look as he kicked a pebble to the side. He didn't dare speak, not unless he knew for sure he was the one she meant to speak to. When the winter spirit glanced around to see not a soul within the vicinity, his heart raced with this mysterious emotion that was nervousness, this troubling feeling that was uncertainty.

"But I thought… you were," Jack's voice cracked under the prospect of hope, "Erm… worried?"

"Oh," Sophia knitted her brows together as if she just realized something. "Oh that's right. Ah—this won't be good. I'll just keep it a secret again. Hm"

Rather appalled that she actually _replied, _Jack ran in front of her and stared at her, wide-eyed. With her head low, apparently in some deep musing, she continued to walk without any regard to his existence.

"Can you hear m—? " He was cut off when she walked through him, leaving him in a state of bewilderment. Rather, he felt like he was tricked.

Well that settled that. This girl liked to talk to herself. Jack would've called her weird, but he really couldn't since he did that too.

Sophia squinted at her pouch. "Father Gordon is the vilest creature in all of New England." The girl let out an aggressive huff as she straightened up her stance.

In a low tone, she began to mimic in a forcibly deep voice, "_Oh child, watch what you say or you'll go to Hell. Ah—you've brought donations. The Gates of Heaven are always open._"

God could only count the number of times she had heard his hypocrisy-laced words. The reverend's entire presence was enough to sink any happy day. Jack couldn't help but laugh to this, a real laugh that chimed like the tinkling of bells.

Stopping abruptly, she looked around with tender and worried eyes, watchful and expectant, as if ready to run if something were to appear. Once it appeared that no one was around, she resumed walking but with a quickened pace.

"I can't talk like this. I am going insane."

Then she stopped talking entirely.

Jack thought that whatever she was doing was extremely amusing, if not then kind of strange. He couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. She was _talking to herself._ It wasn't often he saw people do that and it struck him as something really funny. Perhaps the true humor in that situation was how much passion she poured into her words. The girl had spunk.

When they reached her estate through the heavy gates, in the utmost silence, Jack was surprised at how expansive her home was. The breadth of land was huge and it stretched all the way to every horizon. Underneath the blanket of the darkening gray sky were men, workers—most likely slaves—tending the pre-Spring tobacco. They looked like little ants that were dotted across the field.

Somehow, the symphony of the late winter's ambiance and the hum of the working bodies soothed him.

"_Well,_ your life must be easy," Jack whistled after a brief moment of taking in the vista, only to notice that she was not by his side anymore.

He watched her go as she approached a dark-skinned handmaid. There was a sinking feeling in him, like he was disappointed or something like that.

Then again, not like anything magical was supposed to happen anyway. Reality had jaded him, making him lose hope ever more, little by little.

Peering through the window, his cheek rested on the glass panel. Frost immediately latticed and formed intricate patterns to the touch She was eating a fine meal with her father, two sisters, and three younger brothers by the hearth.

It dawned on him that he really had no business with her. There was honestly nothing to gain from following her. He was, though, grateful for her previous gesture but that feeling could only stretch for a minimal amount of time.

Jack would not mind returning the favor; admittedly, knew all too well that whenever he tried to help someone, nothing ever good had ever come out of it.

It was best to leave before he caused more trouble.

Twilight was the quiet passing period for the sun to fall and the moon to rise. Perched on a high tree that was still on Sophia's property, he stared out at the gloomy horizon with those frozen blue eyes. Lips taut, pursed to a frown, he had no choice but to reflect on himself—brooding may be the term for it.

Impatiently, he rested the back of his head on the bark of the tree. "Wind? Wind, come on. I can't stay here anymore."

There was not a susurrus of wind to reply.

Jack exhaled through his nose, a sign of slight irritation. There were days when the wind would refuse to comply. With this unfortunate outcome, he decided he really didn't want to travel by foot. Instead he chose to sit up there stubbornly until the winds decide to be kind. His facial features relaxed, becoming softer, as he closed his eyes.

There were perks with being a spirit. He never needed to sleep or eat. However that also meant he could never dream nor can he indulge himself with something that can fill him up.

There was a voice.

"Excuse me?"

His eyes flung wide open. Heart pumping, blood racing, he sat straight up and peered down from above. It was Sophia and she was a good four feet below him. In the darkness he could see that she was in a more suitable night gown and a shawl. Her silhouette was tinted with a flickering gold from the flame of her lantern.

She looked like she was looking for somebody.

Jack, still unbelieving, sat exactly where he was at. Startled, perhaps. Frightened was a maybe. Moreover, he just didn't know whether he should trust his instincts this time.

"You were probably watching over me today because he didn't know," Sophia began as her lips formed a gentle smile. "I want to say thank you. I thought I was alone there."

Feebly, she placed a hand on the bark of the tree. She stood in mere silence for about a couple of seconds before looking up. Mutely, the girl turned away, her white dress trailing after her.

Though he wanted to say something, he couldn't. For the first time, ever, he was addressed—at least he thought he was. Nothing made _sense_ but everything played out to look like it did.

It was too good to be true.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello again! I'm having a bit difficulty with the pacing of the story, so I'm really sorry There's a way that it is painted in my mind but somehow, it just can't go into words. Still, nonetheless, here's the chapter! Without a doubt, the awaited moment for her to believe him is drawing near.

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Old but not quite senile yet, the physician warily examined her for any obvious and troubling symptoms. His aged eyes could easily identify any symptoms of stress and discomfort were it to appear. The middle-aged man, a bit restless but patient enough to go follow up with the protocol, took her wrist, holding it with a sturdy grip, and then placed his thumb on her vein. He pressed his lips together as he felt the monotonous beats of her heart.

She was calm—yes there were no signs of anxiety. It was steady—ah, it sounded florid, but he could not ascertain that by itself without the patient's input.

"Are you feeling well Sophia?"

"I have been feeling well doctor." Sophia assured as she stared at the bald patch where hair refused to grow on his head. His hair was thinning, gray, and was tousled in all sorts of strange directions. If the wind were to blow, his hair would frizz up and be like cotton. While the physician was not looking, she stole a moment to briefly smile at that thought.

The doctor, slowed down by age, generally only focused on only one thing at once; he was distracted most of the time. Since he was so occupied by her pulse, Sophia began to count the number of liver spots on the bald patch as a continuation from the previous visit.

She made it a habit to keep herself busy by noticing all the small and strange details that would exist before her. After all, there was not much to do during the muteness. If there was a thing she loathed, it would be feeling dull.

"So tell me Sophia, you have not had the misfortune of being ill in any sort of that manner?"

"Yes doctor." she confirmed listlessly. Her green eyes traveled down to her fingers as she began to fiddle with the material of her gown. "I have been feeling nothing abnormal as of late."

"Your mental state, spiritual state? Is there anything irregular that you would like to report to me?"

Sophia let out a very subtle and vexed sigh to his inquiry. On the fear that he might've been slighted, she inhaled sharply and then let out a pseudo cough to make it seem as if she was having breathing trouble.

"Nothing." Her lips formed a small, forced smile. "Fortunately, I've been feeling very ordinary, doctor Joseph."

Doctor Joseph was a disciplined man, old and stiff but wise to the very irises of his brown eyes. Those eyes had this raw intensity that could probably see right into the soul and snatch a liar by its throat. He sniffed and then scratched his clumsily shaved chin with his thumb.

"That's good news then. I am hoping that you have controlled your habits for, as you and I know, such vices cannot be easily overlooked as they have before."

Sophia bit her lip—ah, the first sign of the emotional wall crumbling. The 'habits' that he meant referred to her unlawful tendency to mumble to herself and retort to those that irritate her. The hot-temper and sense of righteousness that existed in her was well-known in her family because it had caused many issues on numerous accounts. Since she was wealthy and charitable to many village children, her actions had been pardoned for the most part. Yet rumors had sprung wildly across the village like wildfire, all of which had to do with Sophia being a little mad—a big insane, not right in the head.

Her family had to compensate by hiring a family physician to waver off the distasteful accusations. Being the village lunatic was better than being the village hussy. After all, the only place with women was with weakness. Therefore, weakness was the only thing acceptable for her to display.

Any trait resembling 'strength' in a woman would conjure a harrowing suspicion that was infamous across New England.

The suspicion of she or he being a witch.

Sophia was not quite ready to be put up with that in her lifetime.

She nodded, quietly grateful of his solemn but thoughtful warning, "I understand."

The doctor nodded and then quietly got up to collect his belongings before putting on his cap. The eagerness in the prospect of leaving was in the quickness of his steps as he left the room. Before he got out of her sight, however, Sophia called out to him.

"Doctor?"

He turned his head slightly,

"Is mother doing better?"

"She's doing better." He replied curtly.

"I see," She muttered as her eyes fluttered to the ground to quell her heating emotions. "Yes, thank you."

As he walked down the hallway presumably to speak to her father in the foyer, she gave him a glare as she closed the door.

The girl learned against the door to meditate in the silence of her room. She closed her eyes and then let out a steady breath to calm the vexing nerves that were trembling within her. Only in muteness, free from human intrusion, could she find her solace. Only in the quiet did she feel free.

Sophia sauntered over to her bed, sat down, and then seized the moment to look around her room. It was a big room by standards, but it was considered one of the smallest rooms in the estate. The furnishing of the room was rather simple, a unisex themed room that provided the bare necessities. Though she was the daughter of a wealthy plantation owner, the only real benefit was merely in the name.

But she liked it. Contrary to her older sisters and their opinions, Sophia did not prefer the grandeur of this lifestyle. When she was born, the Miller family was not wealthy. Her father took a leap of faith and was consequently able to expand his land ownership. Therefore, all she had ever known was the simple life and that was all she really wanted.

Suddenly the room became a little darker due to the moving clouds. Sophia stood up and walked over to her window to separate the handmade semi-transparent curtains. Painted in various hues of gray, Virginia skies were always gloomy during the winter, at least from this part of town it was. She opened the window and then vacantly stared at the landscape before her. The chill made her nose and cheeks ruddy, nipping the surface of her skin like little needles.

"Jack Frost is going to nip my nose if I stand too long." She told herself quietly.

However she didn't mind because she was rather fond of the cold. Though winters were known to be harsh and cruel, she thought of the season differently. Winters had brought people together, families together, close together so that they may keep warm. Although many people out there were struggling, most of them were struggling together.

As a unity.

Perhaps that was the only thing she yearned for. She longed to be in a place where she belonged, where she could be free to act and still be a part of that unbreakable bond. Just a place, around people, where she won't be called mad or different and be loved. Where different is good, where being different can be exalted, where anyone can be anything they want to be if they believed.

Sophia jumped slightly to the sound of a knock. Since knocking was a decorous notion, she expected it to be a servant. Before she could invite the person in, the door swung open to reveal a girl with a smug look. Her hair was of a soft honey color, wavy and undone, reminiscent to a mermaid almost. This girl had pretty features, high cheek bones, full lips, thick eyebrows to give her eyes more of a fierce intensity.

In her hand was a large book.

When Sophia what it was, she instantly stood straight up, tensing up, muscles taut, feeling a gush of anxiety rush through her veins. "Margaret! Is that-" She stumbled on her words as she knitted her eyebrows together. "My book?"

"Father told me that you're not allowed to go out to the village. These servants of ours, the ones you assume are your 'companions', have been told to keep watch on you." Margaret began as she plopped the book clumsily on the bed. "You're a fool to think you can do that without him knowing. Do you really enjoy trying to disgrace our family name?"

Sophia said nothing and merely stared at the wooden floorboards in the presence of her hateful older sister. "I was only going for a walk."

"You are incredibly selfish then. Nothing good ever follows you." The older girl stated placidly as she folded her arms. "You have an incurable sickness. We pray for you every time we go to mass that God may heal your madness. With all of this attention and care, you still dare to stray to your own judgment?"

Margaret squinted at her, her eyebrows scrunched together to bold the hazel in her eyes. "You are lucky I got this heathen book for you, insolent girl. Were father to find out that you still have this, you would be locked up in the cellar."

She drew in a breath. "You're a burden-a burden to everybody."

With that, the maiden stormed off, shutting the door with a _slam_, leaving Sophia to huddle back in the familiarity of silence. But even in the quiet and tranquil, she could still hear Margaret's voices echo in her ears. Sullenly, she walked over to her bed and then brushed the dirt off the cover of her book. A tear trailed down her cheek, half grateful for the fact that the book had been returned for her but half shameful on the fact that it existed at all.

It was a book of Fairytales and Myths.

She would be ashamed to admit it, but it was a book that had given her hope, dreams, and faith far more powerful than any sermon she had ever heard.

...

Jack knew himself as the eternal trickster, the relentless merry-maker. Invisibility was his greatest asset during his first few months because it granted him the freedom to roam, unchained by responsibility, consequences, and the cruelty the mortals imposed on each other. It provided him a safety net, and absolute assurance that whatever he did or planned to do, it would never ever wrong him.

He was invincible; the whole world was his playroom. Oh how grand it was, to be able to freeze the puddle so that a man can slip and fall. How pleasing was it for him to befuddle a woman by throwing piles of snow over her head. He used to shake with mirth at other people's misfortune, grinning from ear-to-ear at the most unusual situations that would rise from his ruses. He had never really known what a conscience was.

Brash, impatient, and immature, Jack was aware of his childish nature and found it easier to connect to the local children of every town he had visited. Although loneliness patched his frozen heart like a plague, Jack usually found comfort from helping and interacting with children.

At the point of fondness, whenever they laughed, sometimes he laughed too. He'd echo them, repeated some words, and then pretended to think he was being replied to. At least through them, those innocent children, he was being heard. It made him happy.

However if true happiness had a definition, then he didn't really know it. Moreover, he was _afraid _of it, of the unknown, of the dangerous, and of the ambiguities that are beyond his control—for he was a child too, still young and inexperienced. Jack was afraid of everything that interfered with the balance of his emotions—getting too close to a family, a person, a village. He knew that if he developed any sort of feelings, it would be hard for him to let go.

After all, he didn't have much to begin with.

During those times of anxiety, he would give up. Nobody taught him how to hope, how to wait it out and expect good things to happen. The idea of hope and faith had always bothered him, always made him anxious because hope is not certain. How impractical was it to believe in something or trust someone you cannot change, in something you cannot see!

The scars from solitude had given him a quest for power, for certainties that can be within his reach. He thirsted for that absolute comfort, for that certain happiness. He wanted a friend.

But it seemed impossible.

That was why Jack was so conflicted when Sophia spoke in front of the tree where he had so happened to be.

He didn't know whether she was talking to him, talking to herself, or addressing something else entirely. Jack wanted to hope that she meant those words for him, more than anything in the world, but he couldn't bear with the probability that he could be wrong and naïve. He was so used to disappointment that he was tired of it.

He was uncertain.

Afraid.

Even if she was talking to him, how was he supposed to reply? Jack hadn't spoken to anybody who could hear him besides the wind—which probably wouldn't count in his book. So then he sat, nothing to do, nothing to say to anybody that cared.

During his life up on this three, every inch of his body ached to go back to the villagers to torment them to pass the time; however, he was developing more of a self-restraint to this impulse. All he thought about was how Sophia managed to muster the humanity to help that boy when no one else did.

A noise.

Still perched high on the evergreen tree, Jack saw a figure open his or her window. In the darkened atmosphere, it was hard to tell who it was. He hoped though, from his gut that it was Sophia. The window remained open and it almost beckoned him over. When he noticed that there were a few more trees in that area, he instantly calculated the path to climb up.

He shook his head. No, no he couldn't do that.

Night was approaching and he hadn't done anything all day.

With every minute he dwelled on something else, he kept on finding himself being prodded by curiosity. He bit his lip as he let out a length sigh. It was eating him alive so he should might as well go forth and confirm it for himself to quell his unstable emotions.

Light on his feet, Jack masterfully maneuvered down the tree until the bare soles of his feet touched the snow. With haste, he ran towards the ash tree with his staff in hand. At the trunk of the massive tree, he looked up and then hooked on to a sturdy branch by using the curve of his staff. In a series of swift movement without a tinge of caution, Jack was already on the branch nearest to the open window.

Just as he began to fix his brown cloak, He heard the sound of a weeping girl.

It prompted him to feel a mixture of hesitation and an ironic sense of urgency. Truly, he wanted to know what caused the girl (at least he assumed it was a girl) to be despaired yet he didn't want to do that by invading into her room. Nonetheless, it didn't stop him from leaping down from the branch. Like a feline, he landed on his feet, his body hunched over to place his weight on the small platform that was the windowsill.

Sophia.

"I don't understand." She hiccuped between her tears as she hugged her knees against the bed frame. "People avoid me, don't even look at me, and belittle me to the status of dust. God, please tell me why I am this way."

Jack's features softened as he took a few tentative steps towards her. As he thought, she did not hear him.

"I am not mad." She whispered in a hush as she slowly looked up at the wooden crucifix that was hung on the wall in front of her bed. "I just want to be able to be what I want to be… a-and do what I want to do. I'm not crazy, right?"

The wintry spirit froze. Her eyes were directly on him, but they were looking through him. Just her gaze alone made him feel as stiff as ice. "You're not crazy…" he replied sympathetically.

Because he knew what 'crazy' was. Crazy was having false hope, was believing that something good could happen in the midst of nothing. Solitude transcends to insanity and it feeds on the entire spectrum of human emotions. Madness is what happens from walking on the earth but not being a part of it. Craziness is being part of a world that doesn't exist.


	4. Chapter 4

The long awaited chapter...! They meet, but with a little twist. It's a bit shorter than usual, hope that's okay. Enjoy!

* * *

She shook her head as her hand curled up on the surface of the book cover like a dying spider.

"I wish I was something different," she began hoarsely. "I would have a chance to at least have a little bit more freedom."

He sat in front of her, facing her, fixated on her with a mixture of guilt and empathy.

"It must be hard," he began, softly in a hush. "…To exist and not be seen at all. I know how it feels but what's worse on your part is that you _do_ exist and I..."

Jack let out a breath as it came out in a quiet utter. "…Don't."

"Maybe I should just…" Her eyes became hollow as she placed a hand on the pendant around her neck. She rubbed it with her thumb. "Is anyone even listening to me…"

No responses.

The only light came peering down from the blue moon's glow, only slightly illuminating her room in a splash of dark blue. Sophia felt a chill that was so cold, it forced her to wrap her blanket around her body. From what she read, sudden change in temperature usually indicates the presence of a spirit. "Is anyone even here?"

"I'm here." Jack responded desperately as he leaned forward with a strained expression. "I'm right here, listening to you right now." He grinned wryly as he ran his fingers through his silken white hair.

Sophia glanced away, lost in her musing and despairs.

He didn't know what to do or how to react. In fact, he didn't even need to be there. He had already confirmed the truth that he had sought out for. There was no reason to give the effort to stay with her. But it was her hurt that comforted him. Her anguish made him feel relaxed. Perhaps it was because he felt the same way she was.

Suddenly, he had an idea—it was a crazy idea but he decided there was nothing to lose. Jack placed his staff on the bed and then opened his pallid palms. He focused his energy to create specks of frost and snowflakes in the glowing blue bubble. In truth, he had never tried this before so he had no idea what it would do. By sheer instinct, he blew it gently, letting the snowflakes and snow follow the trail of his breath to Sophia's face.

Touched by the coldness, Sophia found herself drawn back into reality. When she looked around, she realized that it was snowing in her room. Her eyes widened, astonished by the anomaly that was going on in her room. "It's snowing…?"

"So that's what it does…" He muttered to himself as he smiled a little to her wonderment. Thank goodness it was a form of gentle magic. He wouldn't know what to do if that froze her face, honestly.

Freeing herself from the protection of the blanket, she lifted her arms. "It's real… It's… real snow. How is it snowing?" Breathless, she opened her mouth as her eyes lit right up. "Magic?"

"It's because of me," Jack laughed weakly as he conjured the icicles to form an image of a flying swan. "So yeah. I guess it is magic."

The girl tentatively stood up and tried to catch the flying swan. Before she knew it, she was bombarded by images of frozen butterflies that fluttered around her room. This was amazing, too amazing to be true. She could swear that she was dreaming.

"Are you… listening to me?" She inquired excitedly as she tried to capture all of the flittering specks of azure. " Who are you? Can you say something?"

Jack smacked his lips and shrugged. "Yeah but you can't hear me."

"Can you give me a sign—please…"

He snickered. She was asking a bunch of pointless questions. There was no way he could reply to any of them. A side of him wished for her to keep up the talking just to hear her chipper voice.

"Are you the devil-!" She exclaimed abhorrently as she reeled her hand away from the glitter. Then she scrutinized it pensively.

"But I thought Hell would be fiery… and the demons…" Sophia folded her arms as she contemplated on the reason behind this phenomenon. When her eyes rested on the book, she sprung into life. "Are you maybe… oh, I-I don't know, I can't."

Jack quirked a brow as he sat back, learning against the other end of the bed frame. Well, he would consider himself a bit devilish, yes; judging on his history of trickery, that description was somewhat accurate.

Sophia rubbed her florid nose after feeling discomfort. In that book, there was a tale about a winter sprite that could change the weather and make things cold. However pretty the atmosphere appeared to be, she occupied herself by skimming through the book with fierce determination.

She looked up with a disgruntled expression. "Excuse me, but if I were to light a candle, would all of these little apparitions disappear?"

Jack stared at her.

"I'm going to do it anyway." She confirmed hastily as she pulled out a match and lit a candle that was resting on an old fashioned nightstand. The whole room was dipped in a shade of a flickering golden color. She cautiously moved it over to her bed and shooed away the frozen butterflies that fluttered near her.

Seeing this as an opportunity, Jack made the icy spectacles disappear, leaving a few glittering motes of snow to flutter about for the sake of uplifting the mood. He moved a little and then glanced at the hefty looking book before him by candlelight. The silver haired boy squinted at it. He couldn't really read it.

"I hope you're still here, Mister of Mistress Spirit." Sophia began as she got herself comfortable in front of the book.

"The reason why I'm not afraid is because I've read countless of stories that have to do with these things. You see, my family called me insane for believing in the fairy tales that my grandmother used to tell me. U-Um…" Her voice trailed off as she flipped over a few pages that had frightening illustrations on it.

"I… still don't know whether you are a benign of a malignant spirit b-but since you haven't done anything, I'll assume that you're nice."

Jack rubbed his nose and grinned. "Good assumption."

She let out a long sigh as she began to mumble incoherent things to herself. "Well, I suppose… Are you Father Winter or St. Nicholas?"

Silence.

Jack let out a dry cough. "Spare me, I'm not that old yet."

"Yes, I suppose I missed it by a long-shot." She snorted as she skipped over the story of St. Nicholas with her nimble fingers. "Oh! Here's another winter story."

Jack lied down on his side, his arm propped up to support his jaw, to get a better angle of what she was doing. She leaned closer to the page of the book, her rosy lips slightly parted as she subtly mouthed the words. Her eyebrows her scrunched together, her green irises glowed like the flame.

"Jack… Frost?"

Jack swore his heart stopped beating. He couldn't even flinch to his name because he was utterly stunned. All the little nerves peppered on the surface of his skin as he opened his mouth in sheer amazement. When she sat up, he followed the suit as If he was jolted with a shock of electricity. She looked around. "Sophia?"

She picked up the book and then stared at the illustration of a little blue boy quizzically. Afterward, she took another long look around. "But he's the last wintry spirit in the book…"

"But Sophia!" He blurted, feeling so much energy he wanted to literally lunge at her. "It _is _Jack Frost—Me, that's me! Jack. Frost."

No, no he couldn't let this slip away. If she was going to continue to see him as nothing, then fate was one _really _cruel bastard. His emotions were swelling up so quickly, he felt as if he could burst at any moment.

"Maybe I just need to…" Sophia gently closed her lids as she thought about her grandmother.

In the space that was her memories, she could see the figure of her aged and smiling grandmother. Her grandmother was a gentle soul, bless her. That woman always had faith and strong beliefs—but piety was not her priority. Rather, it was kindness. She wanted her grandchildren to know that kindness was still possible to see, even if it could sometimes be hidden.

"You just have to believe…" Sophia uttered gently, repeating the very phrase that her grandmother had told her. Her eyelashes fluttered open from the trance, as if she had woken up with a different energy.

"Sophia?"

She paled as she looked to her side. There was a boy in a brown cloak of some sort with deep azure eyes, pallid skin, blue lips, and feathery silvery-white hair. When he moved a little closer, she only stared with her mouth gaping open.

"Sophia…? You can see… me?" His lips slowly formed the biggest smile at her dazed expression. "Tell me that you can see me."

Sophia nodded mechanically, eyes wide open. There were no words that could explain how she was feeling.

Meanwhile, Jack was in his little blissful bubble. He averted his attention elsewhere as he beamed, his blue eyes twinkling. He covered his mouth with a fist and pressed it against his lips to repress the smile, but he just ended up smiling again. He couldn't believe it—he _couldn't believe it._ There were so many emotions in him. He had waited for this for so, so long.

He let out a content sigh as he chuckled suavely before taking a look at the very silent girl beside him. "Hello so… I've been watching you for a while."

Her left eye twitched and she looked like she was going to faint at any given moment.

"N-Not like that I promise—" He was cut off when she closed the book very slowly and tentatively before pressing it against her chest as if it was some sort of armor.

"Look, I can explain." He took his cane and then rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm Jack Frost and-"

There was a really loud scream. Before he knew it, he felt a very strong force push against him, shutting off his consciousness in an instant. In one moment, he was on the bed and in the next moment he saw a bunch of fleeting lights before darkness fell around him.

Sophia, on her knees, was still in that offensive position with the book slightly raised by her head like a weapon. Breathing madly, she remained transfixed on the unconscious boy that was now on the floor, by her bed.

Oh dear God, Heaven-almighty. What did she just do?


	5. Chapter 5

Wow! Thank you for all of the sweet reviews and words of encouragement! I really appreciate it guys~ It means much to me as a writer! Now, without further ado, here's the next edition. I sort of put two chapters in one to keep the flow. It's a bit lengthy, but I had so much fun with this chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

Oh good, he was unconscious.

Sophia let out a lengthy breath, eyes locked exclusively at the unconscious boy as she slowly stepped out of the bed with the candle in one hand. In a mechanical motion, she moved closer to Jack before she cautiously knelt down by his face. There was no way to tell if he was feigning unconsciousness, but from the looks of it, he seemed completely out of it. She placed the candle down, the light of the flame obediently sat still. With the hefty fairytales book cradled in one arm, she tentatively reached out for his face.

The closer her fingers drew to his pallid complexion, the more faltered the movement became. Just a mere inch away from his face, her fingers curled in and she stopped. Stealing this moment, she examined his features.

Maybe it was because of the candle because the orange hues and undertones made him look so alive in contrast to his paleness in the dark. Sophia leaned in a bit as she looked at his eyelashes. Goodness, they were so long and ridiculously pretty for a boy's.

She concluded that he was good looking, no doubt. Then, she furrowed her eyebrows together as she fought back the desire to further admire his features. One must mind that demons usually try to appear comely to trick people!

But she couldn't resist when she placed her delicate fingers on his cheek. In almost an instant, she retracted her hand. He was cold! By the look in her eyes, she was obviously trying to fight back curiosity. Slowly and shyly, she reached out and very gently brushed her index finger against his eyelashes. They were so soft. Without even thinking, she made the biggest smile.

Suddenly, she heard thumping—footsteps! It felt as if her soul was ripped out of her body for a second. After a brief moment for mental recuperation, she blew out the candle and then pushed the book under her bed. Panicking, she stood up, desperately wanting to sit back down. Terrified, she then sat back down, wanting to stand back up again. She was a mess.

When she heard the door hinge turn, she looked down at Jack, heart racing, and then back at the door. She looked around from all directions, hands fidgeting, shaking, before she grabbed her bed sheet and covered Jack's body with it. It would be Hell if someone saw a _boy_ of all things in her room! Oh she just couldn't bear the thought!

When the door swung open, Sophia tensed up and leaned against the side of the bed, still on the floor, doe-eyed and staring at the light of the candle before the face of its holder. It was a middle-aged woman, dark skin, wearing a cloth band around her hair.

"Child, I heard the screaming." The woman said in a concerned manner, her voice deeply accented. She was staring right at Sophia without acknowledging Jack at all. "Is anything' troublin' ye Young Mistress?"

"I… ah." Sophia stammered as she tried to calculate the words to say. She nervously looked down at Jack's outline on the blanket and then back at Amatha, her colored handmaid. She could not comprehend why Amatha could not see him.

"I had a nightmare… I just…" She shook her head vacantly to add to the act, which earned a piteous click of the tongue from Amatha. The older woman strode over to her and then placed the candle on the nightstand. Meanwhile, Sophia was staring at the Amatha's feet, wide-eyed because she was going to _step on_ Jack!

When Amatha's foot went right _through _Jack, she let out a pained grunt, as if she was the one that was stepped out.

'_How is this happening?'_ she thought as the adrenaline spiked her blood flow.

She felt a force lift her up and so she complied. Next them she knew, she was on the bed as Amatha tucked her in with the blanket.

"Do youse need me to keep the light on, child?" Amatha uttered gently as she sat on the bedside. With a hand dry and blemished from hard labor, she tucked a strand of Sophia's hair behind her ear. She was a woman of little words, but the simplicity in her tone meant very much to the young mistress.

Although Amatha was colored, Sophia loved her very much. In the town, the colored townsfolk weren't very popular, for most of them were serfs, poor farmers, and indentured servants. In a way, she felt as if she could relate to them—she was an outcast too, like she was subhuman. Besides the topic of color, the aspect she adored most about Amatha was her kind heart, warm kindred spirit, and hopeful sayings. She just felt safe around this woman.

"I'm fine." Sophia assured with a small smile as she disregarded Jack for a moment. "I'll be okay from here. You can take the candle to light your way back. Thank you. Goodnight."

The woman swiftly nodded. Although she was worried about the young girl, she was still technically a servant and she had to oblige to her Master's daughter's wishes. When Amatha smiled, the creases showed as dark lines on her face. Not much in a hurry, she turned around and departed with the candle, her dress trailing behind her as the light diminished with distance.

After the door was closed and the footsteps became faint, Sophia sprung out of bed and then stared at the dark outline of Jack Frost. Feeling cold and momentarily safe, she wrapped herself in the blanket before she closed her casement window to feel more in control of the environment. In the presence of the fleeting cold, Sophia stood in silence as she tried to figure out how to proceed…

* * *

"Repent!"

He felt something on his face. It was weird—it felt cold and wet like water. His eyelashes fluttered open as the droplets of water ran from his nose. It was dark and he was still feeling sluggish. All he knew was that his head was absolutely throbbing. Once he realized that he was splashed with water from an unknown source, he shook his head roughly to brush off the water from getting into his eyes or mouth. "H-Hey what the—"

"_Cristo_!"

Jack shut his eyes tight as he felt pieces of hard sand or something brush his face. "What the hell!" He grunted as he tried to stand up, only to realize that he was mounted—tied up on a chair. When he pressed his lips together, he tasted… salt water. Immediately, he spit it out and sputtered. "What is going on?" He demanded as he wearily opened both of his eyes, hoping that it won't sting.

His vision began to focus more clearly when he saw the outline of a girl and her book. Jack looked around to see that he was still in her room. The only difference was that it was lit up by three candles on the nightstand. Instead of paying much attention to the environment, he chose to gawk at her. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

The book in Sophia's hand was actually the Holy Bible. She stared at it, perplexed, and then looked at Jack. "Oh… so I guess it did not work."

"Do you mind—?" He spat after tasting the salty water again, "…Telling me _what is going on."_

Sure, he was pleased earlier to talk to somebody, but this wasn't the welcoming he had anticipated.

Sophia gulped, not quite expecting anger at this magnitude. Once she remembered that _she _was the one in control of this situation, she became steeled with superiority, eyes furrowed and lips taut into a frown.

"I…" She began confidently before faltering. The girl bit her lip as Jack stared at her dead in the eye. "I thought you w-were some sort of monster or hell-spawn and I was trying to exorcise you…"

"Clearly it didn't work!" He retorted as he struggled to free himself from the bindings.

Sophia frowned, her irritation peaking. "Then what_ are _you?" She demanded as she advanced one step closer to him, causing him to straighten up to her abrasive tone. "_Who_ are you? Why did you come into my room—how did you do all of that magic conjurations. Why is it that only _I _can see you?"

"Wait a minute," Jack cut her off from the seemingly never-ending questions. "Only you can see me?"

"Yes!" She replied, positively surprised that he did not know. "Well… when my handmaid came in earlier, she completely disregarded you and even stepped right _through _you."

Jack gave her an odd look as he tried to process this. Frankly, he didn't know why himself. "I'm just as confused as you are on that subject."

"Did I summon you?" She asked promptly as she placed the Bible on her bed as she folded her arms. There was no time to spare with her inquiries. Yet the upcoming questions she had in mind made her legs tremble from anxiety. "I-I didn't do any witchcraft, did I? I didn't partake in anything—am I cursed? "

"What?" Jack exclaimed before shaking his head. His face felt so itchy, it was so irritating! "Wha—no! Stop with the questions for a second please! And no, I already _told _you who I am. I'm Jack Frost all right?"

Still not satisfied, Sophia sat down on the bed, facing him, and then folded her arms. "Tell me everything you know! I still don't understand."

He sighed. No quitting with her. "Look. I'm just a winter…spirit, thing." Jack sputtered as he took a second to try to figure out what he really was. "I'm invisible and I can manipulate snow and ice. I happened to be here because I followed you, yes I know. Earlier you helped that little boy and… Then you talked to me—or somebody at that tree…"

He felt somewhat embarrassed. "Well then you were crying so I wanted to change that, so…"

Sophia's facial features softened, taking his words into deep consideration. Was he lying? Truly, she could not tell but he did look very convincingly truthful.

On a different note, It was kind of disturbing that the words she had intended for somebody else at that tree were heard by somebody else. "So you heard what I was saying to myself? In my room and outside during that time?"

"For the most part, yes." Jack replied as he tried to ignore the itch on his icy skin. A droplet of water dripped from his chin. "I didn't mean harm, honest. I was just trying to help…"

She tilted her head, as if looking at him from a slightly different angle would help her consider her next actions. "Well… I…" She rubbed her pendant with her thumb as she calmed down. There was no explanation why, but she felt as if she could trust him… momentarily, that is.

"But," Her voice was stern, "I am _not_ a witch, right?"

"I don't think so." Jack responded vacantly as he scrunched his eyebrows.

Silence.

"So I hope you're not too busy being quiet because I am still tied up. The salt and water is really making my face feel uncomfortable." He huffed as he blew a strand of hair upward with a disgruntled expression. "It's a bit rude."

Sophia gave him an amused half-smile. "That, says the perverted intruder." She moved from her spot and then knelt down next to the legs of the chair to unbind him from the ropes. Upon the last undoing of the knot, she looked back at Jack with her deep green eyes. "Don't do anything you will regret."

"Believe me, I won't." He grunted as he shot a glare elsewhere. "I'm not a pervert either."

Jack freed himself since it was loose enough. Afterward, he insisted on untying the ropes around his ankle, which consequently made Sophia go back to the bedside without a retort. When he stood up, he wiped his face with his arm. "Where's my staff?"

"I'm not going to tell you." She answered in a matter-of-factly tone as she hugged her knees, looking at him expectantly.

"That's a little unfair." Jack muttered as he noticed the faintest of smiles on her face. What a surprise. In response to that, he let out a stifled a laugh. If he was going to argue with her, it was most certainly going to get him no where. He had to give in. "Argh… well, I guess I do deserve it. I'm sorry if I startled you I just…"

He sat back down on the chair as he focused his attention on her. Somehow he felt himself being dipped in awe again. It was still surreal to him. "I… I'm invisible, as you can see—or not see, but yes, quite. Normally people cannot see me or touch me. So when you talked to me—or at least I thought you did—back there I jumped to conclusions and that's why I'm here." Jack rubbed his head, the sore area, "I can only interact with your kind of people with my snow and frost... hence the name."

"Jack… Frost." Sophia said in a somewhat enchanted tone. Just something in what he said made her open up to him. There was a connection between them. Though she didn't completely trust him, she felt a little more comfortable in his presence. Hm. That explained why he felt so cold.

She rested her chin on her knees as she stared at him, studying his appearance again. His white hair and gentle features made him look angelic. She found herself gazing at his eyelashes.

"Your silence is unnerving." Jack pointed out in a half-teasingly tone, which earned him a swift apology. He laughed, feeling a bit flustered because he didn't expect an apology. She was still a girl, after all, and he was very much a boy.

"So," Sophia began as she straightened up a little, completely ignoring his teasing remark for more pressing matters. "Does that make me your… first…?" She didn't know how to finish the sentence.

"First…" Jack repeated as he tried to figure out a adequate label for their 'relationship'. "Ah, erm, I guess you can say that you are the first person to see me. I'm not quite so sure why though."

She gave this a good thought. "Is it because I believed in you?"

He raised a brow, a bit blown away by her use of 'belief'. Out of all words, it was _that_ word? "I… suppose?" But as time progressed by the seconds, it became to make even more sense. His eyes widened, blue eyes sparkling to the revelation. He stood up energetically, face lit up. "So! It's because you _believed _in me!"

The white haired boy let out a dry breath as he paced around. "That makes sense! It's no wonder why nobody else can see me—it's because you don't think I exist!" Brilliant, a 'eureka moment'!

"Right." She said gently as she thought about her grandmother. "Somebody once told me... that belief is a powerful magic of its own."

Beaming as his eyes glistened, he replied cheerfully, "Why, it sure is!"

An awkward muteness ensued. The two exchanged a glance at each other, quite unsure on what to do next. Jack's excitement melted while the flames continued to flicker. The ivory wax dripped down to the surface of the iron candle holder.

Time ticked. Despite the electricity of the moment, Sophia couldn't keep up with this if she wanted to keep her sanity. It was way past midnight, approaching the witch hours, and she was to wake up early tomorrow morning as well! There were duties she still had the responsibility to tend to.

"Erm." Sophia stood up, breaking the silence briefly before she went to her wardrobe. She pulled out his wooden staff, revealing its familiar and curved shaped tip and spiraled handle. The girl probed the blue veins with her thumb as she slowly walked over to Jack to return it to him. "Here, this is yours."

This was more of a gesture that suggested him to leave. Jack completely understood it as held his staff securely in his hand. He held it upright, gripping the oak texture with his fingers. "Thank you…"

Sophia felt a little conflicted. She didn't want him to leave to be honest. There were so many questions she wanted to ask. She had never really spoken to anyone around her age for this long. Deep inside, she was surely hoping that she won't become addicted to his presence. It just felt so _nice _to talk to somebody.

Likewise for Jack, who was unsure on what to do as well. Of course, he wasn't going to leave her forever, but he wanted this initial meeting to last. Jack had always dreamed about this moment, and yet the reality of it was far last romanticized than he had thought. He cleared his throat. "So… I'll… see you around?"

Sophia nodded stiffly as she ushered him over to the window. "I really must sleep, I don't want to be caught being awake. If you don't mind…" She pushed out the frames open, revealing the dark, moonless, and frigid night. Fresh snow was on the ground. "I'm… human so I need sleep."

"Right, right I understand."

As he walked over to the door, he couldn't help to feel as if his time with her was cheated off. He couldn't comprehend why she wanted him to leave. All that time, he was under the impression that she was warming up to him. Perhaps he was still afraid?

The pit of disappointment hit him again as he reached the windowsill. He looked back at her and grinned weakly at her. She returned the grin with one of her own, though it was very short-lived.

Since he was tall, he had to squat down a bit as he readied to jump at a nearby branch. Swiftly, masterfully, he landed with his feet securely on the branch. That skeletal branch bobbed up and down to the shift in weight, but it otherwise it remained stable and sturdy.

"A-Aren't you going to get cold?" Sophia called out, her breath becoming light fog. "Your feet, I mean."

"I'm Jack Frost." He replied with a smile. "How many times do I have to repeat that?"

Cheeks rosy, Sophia laughed quietly at her blunder as she looked up at him with earnest eyes. They exchanged a brief look before Jack turned away for a second, only to get his attention grabbed by her call.

"Jack. If… I go to sleep…" She began steadily as she placed her hands on the wooden windowsill. "And I wake up… and go outside. You'll be there, right?"

Jack nodded a bit as mentally adjusted himself to understand the sincerity in Sophia's request. "Yeah. I will."

"I'm not dreaming, am I?"

He snorted. She really was full of questions. Jack darted her one last look before he departed. Those eyes, ever-green, twinkling like the dew drops on springtime leaves. He wanted to hit himself for making that comparison. "No, you're not. At least, I don't think so."

Sophia was quiet, blind for a second as she delved into deep musing as she readied to close the window. "Right… then… farewell, Jack Frost and goodnight."

His lips were pressed together to form the slightest smile. "Goodnight Sophia."

In a rustle of the leaves under the hush of the wind, he was already gone, leaving absolutely nothing behind. With one breath, the candles were blown out to a wispy stream of smoke, leaving dark and still in its wake.


	6. Chapter 6

Hello, thanks so much reviewers—you guys are the life to this story! I hope everyone's holidays were great! Surely the most of you started the year with a better note? Anyway here's an update from 2 AM! There's some depth about Sophia… and finally some Jack and Sophia fluff. Enjoy!

* * *

Sometimes, a person wakes up in a daze, torn away from their dreams and to forcefully be placed in reality. He or she may wake up in confusion, in frustration, or with contentment as their minds adapt to the process of being awake. And when their consciousness reaches to that certain level of alertness, this question is, at times, the first thing they think of: Am I still dreaming?

Sophia awoke with that question lingering wispily in her head. Her awakening was slow as she lay in bed with sunken morning-eyes. Her vision, hazy at first, began to stabilize as her consciousness absorbed that question to its fullest extent. She squinted in disbelief, her lips parted a bit, at the nothingness before her as if she's trying to make sense of it all.

Jack Frost?

The room was dark, hued with a dash of dark gray save for the light gradient around her closed window. There was a small sliver of white light that peeked through the window's crevice. In the safe shadows of her room, she remained laying supine under her blanket with hands neatly on top of the sternum of her chest, staring blankly at the ceiling. She closed her eyes, almost wishing for it to snow again.

What happened last night?

Was it… real?

Such questions rampaged across her thoughts even after she left her quarters. Now groomed and properly dressed in her day gown, Sophia walked down the hallway towards her mother's room with a tray of food and a mind laden with thoughts. Pensive was her expression—those distant green eyes and concerned pursed lips. Her stride was constant but mechanical.

Deep inside, she felt so excited over last night's encounter with a mystical and otherworldly being. On the flip side, she also felt very guilty for so readily jeopardizing her faith by wanting to see Jack again. Her religion called for intolerance of many things—namely anything magical-related. She grimly concluded that if she were to see Jack, then she was, by the name of religion, a heathen.

If Puritanism had a slogan, it would be this: Faith through fear.

Fear of being damned in Hell. Fear of being judged by others. Fear of being in eternal pain. Fear of being _different._

Though she wanted to see Jack again to confirm his existence, she had to make a decision and realize the renouncement of her morality… and accept all of those fears the sermon had vehemently spoke of.

Nervous now, Sophia entered the room where her bed-ridden mother was resting. The pale-faced woman, face gaunt and sickly with unkept dirty blonde hair hair, moved only weakly in response to her daughter's entrance. They had only the slightest resemblance; only their noses and eyes were similar for Sophia was told to look more like her father. Nonetheless, both had their own allure and glow when they saw each other's faces. With a gentle smile, the young brunette set the tray of food and tea on the nearest counter before sitting down on the bedside. Gingerly, she reached for her mother's frail hand to provide it the strength of her squeeze.

"Thank you, my dearest," murmured her mother in a delicate tone. Her eyes, just as green, were drooping as her facial features relaxed.

With pained eyes, Sophia forced a wry smile even though it was drenched with bitterness. "Of course mother. Please rest and eat breakfast."

"I will… I'm still tired though darling," she replied in a rasp as she squeezed her eyes shut. "I had such horrid nightmares and I could not sleep."

"Nightmares?" The girl uttered, deeply concerned as she shifted a bit on the bed to fully face her mother. Then she sat, still holding on to her beloved's hand.

"Yes… I had a dream that I was falling… Falling down into a heap of snow." Midway to the story, the mother laughed sorely. "It sounds silly. But once I hit the snow, I woke up and saw you and Eliza playing in the snow. There was a bear running after you… and I kept yelling at you to run but you nor your sister chose to budge. Your sister disappeared, leaving you behind… and you did not run away. I was weeping because I felt so invisible—so unheard. It was treacherous!"

After a second of silence, the two women chuckled softly amongst another. Sophia held the hand tightly and gave the warm fingers a swift kiss. "It's all right, mother. I promise that if I see any bears, I will run away and find my own path to safety."

"I hope you do find your way. Even when I'm—" She was interrupted by a dry cough before resuming, "Not going to be around. I know you will find your way."

"P-Please….!" Sophia stammered as she feigned a humored chuckle. Her laugh sounded like hollow little bells. "You will recover, believe in me. You will always be with me." A swift kiss on the bridge of the nose before she stood up. With that smile still laced on her lips, she announced, "I will be downstairs for a little bit. Please eat and rest. I'll be back here in a couple of moments."

The farewell was returned with a weak wave from the woman on the bed. When Sophia turned away to exit the room, she felt like a terrible coward. Lips trembling, bones shaking, the girl leaned against the walls of the hallway to recuperate. Her mother's foresight of her own death frightened Sophia. She could not bear to keep such optimism with a straight face now that reality was prodding her common sense. There was so much trouble in the girl that she saw no other choice than to see Jack Frost. Because their meeting was truly the first time in a while she felt a mixture of pleasant emotions.

Emotions… of happiness, of wonderment, of curiosity, of astonishment, and of excitement over the prospect of future adventures. All at once. Out of no where, like a surprise present in the middle of the year. Those were emotions that were rare in existence, especially during this time. So when she imagined his snowy complexion and strange smile in her mind, a faint flush tinted her cheeks. For a second she was entrapped in a moment of pure bliss. Then she frowned and quickly covered her face as she mentally groaned.

It felt so _wrong_ to want to believe. And yet… it felt so right.

* * *

"My own path… is it?" Sophia uttered as she produced a small pendant that was around her neck, hidden underneath the clothes. After rubbing the surface of the faded silver frame, she thought about her mother's dream. Perhaps the bear… was a symbolism for something. And if it was, she should be running away.

Sophia snorted, shaking her head hastily to keep her mind off from over-analyzing. Once she heard footsteps of an incoming person, she quickly walked away and quietly made her way down the stairs to the foyer. Since it was morning, nobody was around to disturb the peace of the beautifully furnished room that was illuminated by the sun's white light. Since the curtains were neatly tied to the side to reveal the outside environment, Sophia had almost expected to see Jack sauntering outside.

She took a step forward but then spontaneously changed her course when her mind jumped on a new track of thoughts. First of all, she grabbed the nearest shawl that was apparently left out by one of her sisters and then draped it over her shoulders. Then, out of whim she waltzed into the kitchen where a few colored handmaids kept themselves busy. Two of them greeted her kindly while the rather tall and wispy one in the corner only nodded her a 'good morning'.

"May I have a basket?" Sophia asked, standing at the entrance doorway. "With apples and some bread. And two cups of tea." Quickly she added, for the sake of properness, "Please."

One perk from being the least bratty and spoiled of the children was that Sophia was able to receive very quick and kind service with no questions. With the loop of basket of fruit and bread in her arm and two tea cups, one in each hand, Sophia thanked them before she scurried out the front steps. In the face of the brisk morning, she shivered to the temperature drop and winced at the intensity of brightness. Though it was cloudy, it was very bright and that reflected on the snow. Her breath escaped in a form of a white wisp. Sophia looked at the two cups of warm Earl Gray in her hands, quite eager to take a drink to restore her warmth. Yet she had to persevere and have a civil conversation with Jack before anything. She still had too many questions to ask him and she was determined to figure it out for herself.

And so she trekked towards the direction of that tree—the one Jack mentioned the other night because she had no other lead of where he might be. Honestly, she had somewhat expected him to be waiting at the doorstep. Her feet plunged down a few inches of fresh powdery snow, struggling to get to the other side of her expansive estate.

Looking around cautiously first to make sure no one was there, she nervously called out, "J-Jack?"

Her cheeks were slightly numb, causing her pale face to become florid with a hue of soft pink from either embarrassment or shame. Mutely, she followed the familiar trail to the tall, bare, and lonesome oak tree that harbored many memories—one that included a friend who had passed away. In the silence, she began to think about that deceased friend, her mind so occupied she did not notice the elfish winter spirit, perched on a high branch, that had the biggest smirk on his face.

Swiftly, the silver haired boy landed on his exposed feet, his body knees bending down with the motion, behind Sophia. "Boo!"

The girl, as expected, let out a yelp, her hands jolting upward from the shock. Quite of a bit of tea from both cups flung in the air and down into the ground, creating deep holes and blemishes on the once pure and even-leveled snow. Gaping, she turned around to stand face-to-face to a tall grinning boy with two eager and twinkling blue eyes. "Jack!" She cried, as if she was reprimanding him. Quickly she looked away and let out a breath to calm her nerves. "You—frightened me."

In response Jack laughed merrily, holding on his tall and crooked wooden staff with both hands to stand his mirth. When she glanced back at him with a pout, he wiped the laugh off is lips with his sleeve and smiled. "Well… Good morning!"

He paused as he rubbed the back of his neck. Jack had been rehearsing this for hours… So far he got everything wrong. "That… is how you greet people right?"

With a raise of her brow, Sophia simpered and nodded, bashful and unsure f what to say. "W-Why yes… good morning. You did it right. Erm…" She looked down at the cup and the remnants of the cooling liquid. "Tea? Well, there is not much of it now."

"I…" Jack hesitated as he reached for the cup Sophia handed to him. "I don't really know much of what tea is?"

To the touch, a light skin of frost began to form until it encased the entire object. "Oh… oh I am really sorry." Curiously, he flipped the cup up-side-down and then peered into the cup. It seemed that he froze the tea as well.

To that she laughed genuinely as she took a small sip of her tea, "That's fine… you _are_ Jack Frost, after all."

Jack laughed too, partially because he didn't know how to respond.

"An apple?" She offered.

"I would freeze that too—on accident that is. I'm still not very good at controlling my touch… you see."

Sophia cleared her throat awkwardly as she placed the apple back in the basket. "I do see… At any rate I've come out here to ask you questions." Her tone was laced with tenseness; she was ready to get with the business.

He made an expression of discomfort. Rather, he wanted to be the one asking questions or playing around with her. He could already foresee this as not being very fun. "All right then."

Once again, Sophia scanned the periphery to ensure that no one was eavesdropping. There were only some brush and pieces of lumber and rocks lying around, certainly nothing there. From her angle, she saw nobody peeking from around the corner of her house nor did she see anybody at the windows.

"So you're a winter spirit. Why are you here in Maryville?"

"I thought I answered this yesterday." He replied, slightly exasperated at this talk already.

"Well-?" She furrowed her brows.

"I travel by the wind," He explained after pushing away disdain as he walked over to sit on a flat rock that was near the tree. As he fiddled with the cup, he continued, "The winds blew south, and so I went south. But now I'm stuck here for some reason I'm not sure."

"How long have you been… around then?"

"Four cycle of seasons, or so I think. And I…" Jack spread out his pallid palms in front of him, "… haven't aged. I suppose it comes with being a spirit, don't you think? I'm basically immortal."

Sophia widened her eyes. She expected answers—but not answers at this length! Somehow she was just so enchanted by Jack's story of being able to be drifted by the wind to countless of directions and of being forever young and immortal. Straight out of the fairytales.

"And you're real… I'm not dreaming." This was not really a question at all, but a thought she accidentally spoke.

"Nope." Jack answered light-heartedly as he mustered the courage to stand up and walk towards her. Inside, he could feel his heart beating at a rapid pace. He looked down at the cup and then back at her eyes that had captured his attention those few days ago. Still at a bit of a distance between her, he gently lifted his arm and opened her hand out towards her. "I can… prove it."

Bemused and uncertain, Sophia stared at his hand as she held the teacup close to her chest with both of her hands. "I'm… really not sure." Out of politeness and mindfulness, she added, "What if you freeze my hand?"

"Uhh…" Jack stammered, for he honestly had not thought about that. Heart beating up to his eardrums, the boy bit the bottom of his lip, not quite giving up yet. He had practiced this… he had plans. "Just… believe me for a little bit. I'm not going to hurt you I just… want to show you something."

This voice was one of sincerity, one that was saturated with hope. The way he looked at her, it was a look straight into the windows of the eyes. He knew that if he was going to live an eternity, he wanted this girl—the first girl who had ever spoken him—to have a special place in his memories. At least, that was what he concluded during the sleepless hours between their last meeting.

"Really…" He added with slight desperation.

She was the only person that could quell the crying darkness that was his solitude. It seemed to be the only way.

Sophia though did not romanticize the way he did. She still saw his existence as a threat to her beliefs. The girl was hesitant and even scared—fearful of this unknown. However there was something enthralling about his mystique and vigor. That hand was reached out to her, promising unspoken adventures. And the way he looked at her seemed so genuine, it became very convincing.

"But I can't…" The girl said hesitantly with a bit of despair. It was her time to let it out. "I… I can't. Jack, I am a girl that shouldn't be doing this."

Jack's outstretched hand weakened, the fingers closing in slightly as if it was dying. Her rejection was as clear as the day. His shoulders relaxed downward in disappointment and slight shame, though it did not show in his face. "Oh I… I see…"

Sophia glanced elsewhere, in deep cogitation as her mind raced on what to do. Should she stay, or should she go? For if she were to accept his unknown offer, she would have to accept that she has fully succumbed to unorthodoxy. But that was the main question.

Was she ready to leave everything—all of the verses, stories, teachings, and rules of the church—and go forth with a strange entity of magic that defied every logic she grew up to live by? That, she was not sure. Perhaps she was never going to be sure because she took a tentative step back.

"Wait."

Her voice was sudden, soft, but defined, like a drop of water into a body of water. The ripples sounded in the silence, the intensity of those words growing by the seconds.

"Do you promise that… that everything is going to be okay?"

Jack frankly did not understand what she meant by that. Yet he was ready to take the responsibility anyway as a soul hungry for company.

"I promise. You won't get hurt." Then he gave her a reassuring smile. "It'll be fun."

She pursed her lips as she placed the empty teacup into the basket, thinking it out a bit. With a sigh, she nodded once but then shook her head, which consequently confused Jack.

"Close your eyes first. O-Okay?" Sophia told him anxiously. "I want to take some precautions before I go with you."

Puzzled, Jack obeyed and closed his eyes. Truly, mortals were very strange to him.

"Try not to freeze it. If you do, I will never forgive you!"

Darkness. He could only hear his own breathing. He wasn't sure what was going on. It was just him and his breathing, standing there with his hand oustretched. Jack wasn't sure for how long he had his eyes closed, but he kept hoping that something was going to happen soon.

And then he felt something on his hand. It was soft, delicate, and very warm—warm, in the strangest of ways. Although he never liked the heat, this warmth had a nature that did not hurt—not like the sun's heat or a flame. It radiated with a different intensity, one that had more life to it than destruction. When he opened his eyes, he saw her.

She smiled, as if she was teasing him with her eyes.

"You promised. So where are we supposed to go now?"


End file.
